


He Is No Beast

by Rachel_Lu



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (1963), Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Beauty and the Beast, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Beauty and the Beast Elements, Curse Breaking, Curses, F/M, Fairy Tale Curses, Fairy Tale Elements, Falling In Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2018-07-28 14:46:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 20,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7645129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rachel_Lu/pseuds/Rachel_Lu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The fair prince John Smith has been put under a spell, but not one of ugliness.  He has been locked in a castle with only his handsomeness and servants to keep him company, and he will not be released from his spell until a woman can love him for more than his appearance.  However, his hard exterior makes it hard for someone to do so.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I just did a Rose -saving-the-Doctor- AU, so let's flip it back around to the way we're familiar with for this twist on Beauty and the Beast, shall we? I hope you all enjoy the first chapter, any feedback is appreciated :)
> 
> This is intentionally only 'loosely' based on Beauty and the Beast because come one, we've all sen it, and retelling of the same exact scenes would be boring!

"Rose, are you setting to go to the market?"

Rose peeked out from over the top of her book, remembering that she was indeed supposed to be going to the market for her mother.  She'd been sitting up in the loft of their small cottage, and had forgotten all about her errands. 

"Oh, yeah, sorry mum!" She grabbed her basket and thundered down the ladder, throwing her book into it and landing in a gentle heap.  "Alright, I'm ready."

Jackie Tyler laughed at her daughter and shook her head.  "Go on, then.  Hop to.  I won't have my salad being soggy, you've got to pick me up fresh greens."

Rose giggled and pressed a kiss to Jackie's cheek.  "Bye, mum!" 

She straightened out her green dress, which fell to the top of her knees and flattered her quite nicely if she did say so herself.  She tied on her white apron, which fell over her waist, grabbed up her basket again, and took off out the door. 

Rose was well known in her town, if only for being kind and lovely to everyone she met before.  She greeted the people as she walked past, smiling and waving and offering "good morning!"

She skipped her way through town happily, humming to herself.  She skidded to a stop in front of the town library.  She looked down at the book in her basket reluctantly.  It had become her favorite, but she really should take it back.  

Sighing a little, she trudged towards the library and threw the door open.  "Hello, Mickey!" She said cheerfully, striding in.  "I've come to return that book."

Mickey glanced over at her.  "You've had it for a month, Rose.  What do you even like about it?" 

She picked up the book and clutched it to her chest.  "It's beautiful, Mickey!  Adventure and romance, and a prince in shining armor!" She smiled.  "It's perfect."

Mickey smiled at her.  They'd been friends for so long, he knew all about her love of books.  He lifted a shoulder.  "You know, Rose, you should just keep it, since you love it so much."

She seemed shocked at the very notion.  "Are you sure?" She asked, looking down at the book.  

"Of course, Rose, it's a gift," he said kindly, "Go on now, fetch your mother's things."

She kissed him on the cheek in thanks and took off with a "bye, Mickey!" over her shoulder.  He laughed and went back to his work, shaking his head to himself. She had always lived with her head in the clouds a bit, and there was no reason fro him not to encourage her. 

Rose made her way about the town, running errands, picking up groceries for her and her mother.  her father had died when she was just a baby, and of course, it had been hard to make end's meet, bu they had always done their best, and they had done it beautifully.  Rose was certain that someday things would work out for them, that all they had worked for would be worth something. 

Her happy jaunt around town was cut short by her run in with one Jimmy Stone.  He was standing with his arm against the door frame of a flower shop, barring her entry into the store. 

"Excuse me,' she said politely, trying to push her way through.  He was bigger than her though, and stronger, and couldn't seem to quite manage it.  She took a step back and stared up into his smug face.  She narrowed her eyes.

He continued to smirk down at her.  "Hello, Rose."

"Hello."

"Would you care to take a walk with me?" He asked, trying to sound casual.

"No thank you," Rose replied politely, "I'm running errands for your mother."

"Isn't she crazy?  Heard she went mad since your dad died."

"She's not mad," Rose snapped.  "In fact, she plans to attend a gala on this night, in memory of my father, and her mind would have to be perfectly sound for her to attempt something like that, don't you think?"

Jimmy snorted.  "Oh, Rose, even crazy people can pretend to be sane for an evening.  You must know that."

"I assure you, I don't."

"Now, please let me through, won't you?"

His smile turned into a scowl, "I don't take lightly to being turned down, Rose."

"I don't really care,' she said, lifting a shoulder. "I'd just like to go finish my errands, if you please.  And where's that rat little friend of yours?  Adam?"

"Adam's around," Jimmy replied, "I'm not too worried about him at the moment though, are you?"

"He's your friend." She let out a sigh.  She wanted to be polite, of course she did.  But Jimmy tested her last nerve, as he tried to court her practically all the time.  The attention would be flattering, if he weren't such a ladies man.  She knew he only gave her attention because she was the only woman that he had managed not to woo so far.

"Yes, he is, but... In some special way, so are you," he said, removing himself from the doorframe to stand closer to her. 

She smiled to wind him a bit and ducked away from him to enter the flower shop, trying to leave him behind. He seemed to be in shock before he came after her, into the shop. 

"Are you going to attend the gala with your mother?" He purred over her shoulder as she picked out daisies for their table. 

"No," she said, "Someone has to look out for the house while she's away. Besides, I don't like all those stodgy types." 

His hand trailed over her arm. "I'm sure you don't."

She jerked away from him, shooting daggers at him with her eyes. "I'm sure you think you're making yourself look more attractive to me, but I can assure you, you're not.  Good day, Jimmy."

Grumbling to himself and sensing that he'd been beaten (for the moment, at least) he slunk away from her, his shoulders hunched in anger or sadness or something in between. She rolled her eyes as she left.  She didn't have time for this.  He was not her knight in shining armor, this much she knew.  She paid for her flowers and walked back home, her attitude already back up by the time she got back. 

"Are you ready for the gala, mum?" she called as soon as she entered.  

"I'm down here!" her mother shouted. 

Rose grinned and came down the steps to their basement.  Her mother was a writer, and a good one, but people didn't seem to respect her writing for what it was.  Still, she wrote at the desk in her basement, surrounded by books, just as her daughter liked to be.  Rose made her way down to where her mother was and watched as she wrote. 

"You should probably get ready."  She said.

"You're right," Jackie replied, sighing, and sat back in her chair.  "I suppose I should, dear.  To be quite honest though, they said if I wasn't feeling well they would send a copy of the speech about your father here.  They know I've been ill."

"You were ill," Rose agreed.  "But then you went to the physician, and you're not ill anymore, so you can go to the gala."

She said it softly, and her mother had to agree.  "Alright, I'll go.  But I won't like it!  All those stuffy people who still pity us after all these years."

"They give us funding when you have trouble finding work, so those stuffy people help us," she said, "it's hard for women to get work, you know that."

Jackie reached over and patted her daughter's hand.  "Of course I do. You're just like your father, you know that?  So creative, but with a level head on those shoulders.  Now, I'll go get changed.  Would you mind making something for dinner?"

"Of course not."

Rose did cook dinner that night, a stew full of vegetables and meat and she was rather proud of the finished product.  She hadn't been cooking for very long but she did really enjoy it.  She fixed a bowl for herself and ate it slowly as her mother packed some up to take on the road with her.  She looked lovely in a red satin dress and her hair done up in a careful updo.  It was the nicest dress she owned, and Rose liked to imagine a white version of it for her wedding dress.  

"Well, Philippe and I are off," Jackie said, situating her bag at her hip.  "I'll see you tomorrow, my dear."

Rose smiled.  "Alright.  Be careful, then.  There's supposed to be a storm tonight really late.  I want you to be safe."

Jackie looked fondly at her daughter. "I'll be just fine.  Sturdy as a horse, me, there's nothing that could take me down.  You just wait."

Rose giggled. "Alright, if you say so.  Have a nice night."

*****

As it turned out, the storm struck as Jackie was leaving the gala.  The thunder seemed to be attacking her personally as she tried to take her horse through the woods.  A strike of lightening frightened Philippe and threw Jackie, who cried out in shock.  Her cloak caught on a tree branch and she couldn't even be bothered to go after it, really.  She cried for her horse, but it was so startled its only thought was to go home.  Jackie got to her feet, immediately trying to look about for someplace to stay.  What she saw astounded her. 

What lay before her was a massive castle that rose so high it appeared to be leaning over her.  It was deep blue, which was odd in itself, and had incredible stained glass windows.  Jackie didn't think twice, just made her way towards it.  

When she knocked on the doors that were twice her size, she was surprised to find that they swung open for her.  She shivered once and ran into the entryway.  The inside was just as impressive as the outside.  It was ornate and classy and Jackie, even in her red finery, felt out of place.  She took a few more steps forward.

"Hello?" she called out.

Suddenly, a woman about her age with dark brown hair and a lovely smile came round the corner, her eyes twinkling.  "A visitor!" She said excitedly. "Hello, it's lovely to meet you.  My name is Sarah Jane.  You must be freezing."  She guided Jackie to a parlor that was offset the main entrance.  A large fireplace already had  a fire roaring inside it.  She sat heavily in the chair Sarah Jane gestured to, a high backed thing that was really quite extravagant and overwhelming.  It almost engulfed her entirely.  

Two more people clamored into the room, a man with dark hair and blue eyes and a woman with red hair and a 'here-be-dragons' attitude.  The latter promptly gaped. 

"Oi!  The master isn't going to like this," she said, crossing her arms over her chest. "She's in his seat."

"Oh, I didn't mean to take up someone's space," Jackie said in a rushed voice, and started to stand, but Sarah Jane made for her to sit again.  

"Don't be ridiculous," Sarah Jane directed her attention at the two others.  "He'd want to warm up a cold woman, don't you think?  What's your name?"

"Jackie Tyler.  The storm drove my horse to madness, I'm afraid."

The man nodded grimly.  "Of course," he said, "My name is Jack, and this is Donna.  We all work for the lord of the house."

"And who is that?" Jackie asked curiously, feeling strangely comfortable about these kind people.  

Donna opened her mouth to speak, but a voice that rumbled like the thunder outside made its way down the steps. 

"Who's there?" The voice demanded, a rumbling tenor voice of a young man.  He descended the stairs, each footfall ringing through everyone's ears.  Jackie felt afraid of him instantly.

The man rounded the corner and Jackie knew he was a man of great importance by his appearance alone.  "Who is this, everyone?" 

Sarah Jane fidgeted with her fingers nervously but met the man's gaze.  "This is Jackie.  She was caught out in the storm."

His eyes snapped to Jackie, and they raged like the storm. "Well I know exactly where she can spend the night here, then," he said coldly. 

"No, my lord!" Jack said, stepping in front of Jackie.  "She's just an older lady seeking shelter from the storm.  You are being foolish."

Jackie couldn't even find it in herself to be insulted by Jack's comments.  She would've usually said something, but not this time.  She was caught by this man's eyes.  He was dangerous.  He could kill her.  Cold shot through her at the very thought.

"You are my friend, Jack, but I will not let you tell me how to run my estate.  Come, Jackie." He took her by the arm and dragged her from the room, stumbling over her own skirts.  The servants cried out and followed them, their own angry voices echoing throughout the castle. 

The lord of the house tugged her down a set of winding stairs to a dungeon.  Jackie cried out in fear as he shoved her into the cell. 

"You will stay here, now," he said, locking it. "You will be safe from the storm."  He turned on his heel and strode away.

Sarah Jane got to her knees before the cell. "I am sorry, my lady.  I wanted to help you, that's all."

"I know," Jackie said, already fighting back tears.  "I know you did.  I'm just worried for my daughter."

"Oh, no!" Donna said.  "She's got a daughter!  You've really mucked up now, Sarah Jane!"

"If being kind is mucking up, then sure!" Jack snapped back.  "But we are sorry, Lady Jackie. We'll do all we can to get you out of here."

"Servants!" The lord's voice boomed down to them.  "Come back upstairs, now!" 

The servants most certainly feared their master, as they murmured more rushed apologies to Jackie before tearing up the stairs. 

Jackie fell to the floor, her bottom lip trembling.  Poor Rose.  She looked around the cell, and the dingy hay she was to use as a bed.  Oh.  Poor _her._


	2. Chapter 2

Rose woke up the next morning anticipating that her mother would be cooking up breakfast downstairs. Unfortunately, when Rose awoke, there was no sound of her mother puttering about. She sat up and listened more closely.  Perhaps she just hadn't heard it.  No, though, there was no sound.  She shot up from her bed and stumbled down to the common room of their cottage. 

"Mum?" She shouted, glancing around. She glanced down into the basement but her mum wasn't there either, writing away.  Rose chewed her bottom lip as she looked around.  Everything was exactly where it had been before, when Jackie had left for the gala.  

Did she even make it home? What had happened?  In a rush, Rose dressed in a yellow dress that was similar to her green dress from the day before and ran out into the town. She had to find out if someone had any word on her mother. 

The first person she ran into was Mickey, who was setting up books as the library opened. 

"Mickey!" She shouted breathlessly, stumbling into the store. "Has my mother been in?"

Mickey looked dreadfully confused and came down from his ladder. "No, Rose, I haven't.  She was attending that gala last night, wasn't she?"

"Yeah, and she left, but she didn't come home today," Rose said, wringing her hands.  "I'm afraid something happened to her."

Mickey was incredibly worried.  He'd been a part of the Tyler family for as long as any of them could remember.  He drew his brows together. "You've gotta look around town, Rose. I'll ask anyone who comes here, okay?"

She nodded. "Maybe I'm just overreacting.  Maybe it was just a little bad, the weather, and she decided to stay.  Do you think?"

"Could be," Mickey admitted, "It's possible, Rose, but I still think you should ask around here first, okay?"

"Yeah, of course," she said, still wringing her hands.  Mickey took a step towards her and separated her hands. "Stop that now," he chided.  "It'll be okay, your mum is tougher than you give her credit for."

Rose sighed.  "Maybe you're right," she said. "Thanks, Micks. You'll really keep an eye out?"

"Yes, Rose, I promise," he said with conviction.

She bid him goodbye and had only made it three steps out the door before running straight into Adam and Jimmy. They were both grinning widely at her and she rolled her eyes.  

"Oh, come on," she groaned, "I have things to do, you know."

"It's a little rude to not stop and speak with other people of the town, though," Adam said, as though he'd just come up with the most brilliant thing to say in the world.

Jimmy seemed to agree.  "He's right, you know," he said, leaning towards Rose. "And you were just so rude to me yesterday, I think you owe me."

Rose scowled, "I owe you nothing.  Not a word or a shred of my time belongs to you, Jimmy Stone!  You let me by."

Adam gasped.  "Now, no woman dares to speak to Jimmy that way!" he said, as though he were personally offended by the words.  "You'd better apologize."

Rose tilted her chin up. "That's incredibly juvenile of you to say, Adam, considering I've done nothing to warrant me giving anyone an apology.  My mother is missing and I'm trying to look for her, so if you'll excuse me-"

"Jackie? Missing?" Jimmy rolled his eyes.  "she's probably just wandering around in circles muttering about cats," he leaned towards her again, "Rose, she's crazy. She's been properly batty since your dad died."

"Stop saying that!" Rose snapped.  "Maybe you should actually try going in to the library and reading a book, expanding your knowledge, before you insult a woman who is ten times smarter than you are!"

Adam stifled a laugh as Rose gave Jimmy a mighty shove and strode away from the scene. She didn't have time for this, this madness that Jimmy Stone called his life. If he wanted to seduce her, he should try being a bit more intelligent, she thought to herself.  After all, she wanted a man who was just as knowledgeable as she was, and she would settle for nothing less. 

In other words, she did not plan on settling for Jimmy Stone.

Rose continued to make her way through town, asking after her mother. Everyone met her questions with gazes of concern and worry.  No one had seen or heard from Jackie Tyler since she'd left the night before.  

She started to return to her cottage that afternoon dejected and hungry.  She heated up something to eat on their little stove and ate outside, staring up at the sky and wishing she could fly like the birds.  If she could look down from their view, she just might find her mother. 

It was obvious to her that some of the people in town thought she was overreacting, but Rose knew she wasn't. The gala had been far from home and it would be safe to assume that something would happen. She also heard from someone in town that it had stormed last night. Rose had slept right through it, but her mother would've been out in it, trying to get back home. 

She leaned against the door to her cottage and let out a heavy sigh.  She didn't know where to look next.

As if an answer to her prayer, Philippe, their horse, rounded the bend onto the road on which they lived, a wild look in his eye. Rose sprung to her feet and called gently to the horse.  At the sound of her familiar voice, the horse quieted and trotted towards her.  

His fur was full of bramble and leaves and mud from his run. He must've gotten lost on the way home but found his way back. 

"The storm scared you, didn't it?" Rose asked, stroking his muzzle.  He pushed into her hand in response and she cooed gently to him, though part of her was wildly angry at the animal, since it appeared that he had thrown her mother somewhere back in the forest. 

However, as kind hearted as Rose was, she couldn't take the instincts of an animal and hold it accountable.  Poor Philippe didn't know, after all, that he had done something wrong. So Rose led him back to his stable and fed and watered him.  "It's alright," she said softly, picking up a brush to brush out his fur and mane, removing the knots and plants from him. "Once you're sorted, I'll go find mum."

She was on edge, but couldn't behave that way around the horse, for fear she would spook him again.  Once he was taken care of, water and food in his belly, she gave him a final pat and a kiss on the head before leaving the stable. 

All the maintenance Philippe had required meant that the sun was already beginning to set.  Rose sighed.  This day had passed in a panicked frenzy, and she hoped she wasn't about to have another day like it.  

She was loath to take Philippe out, though it would be faster to do so.  She needed to get through the forest, but just trampling through on Philippe would not help her find her mother. She would have to pick through the foliage, and it would be meticulous work, but she would do it. She pulled her cloak on from inside the house and prepared a lantern to take with her as well.  A twist of a knob on the side would see it safely on, and she could get the light she needed. It was still too bright for that, but Rose Tyler was a woman who desperately liked to be prepared. 

She headed out then, going towards the forest with a sense of foreboding creeping up her spine.  She'd never been in the forest alone, and wouldn't say she was scared of it, though that was almost most certainly what it was.  But Rose knew that bravery didn't mean being fearless, it meant facing your fears and conquering them, so she was determined to be brave.

She walked until the sun went down, then lit her lantern.  It was still dark, but now she had enough light to see her feet and the path before her by. She called out for her mother, hoping that her voice would echo to where she was.  However, she did not receive a call back, which made her heart pump faster and faster in alarm.

The forest was cold,a s most forests are at night, and Rose drew her cloak more tightly around her shoulders. She had to get out of here, it was almost too dark for even her lantern to light the way.  It didn't seem that any stars were bothered to come out into the sky that night, and she only had the moonlight and the dim light in her lantern. 

Which, by the way, was starting to go out.

She bit her lip, wanting to curse, and continued on. There was no point in stopping now, she was too far out.  She was just about to lose hope entirely after the seventieth call for her mother when she saw a light ahead of her and to the left.  She approached it, her step quickening in her excitement, and when she approached the light, she saw it hung over massive double doors that led to an even more massive dark blue castle.

She gaped at it, for she had never seen anything of that sort before.  Perhaps they knew about her mother inside, or could at least point her in the right direction.  She stood before the doors, debating with herself, until she finally gave the door a good stiff knock.

A woman with dark brown hair opened the door, seeming surprised to have company at all. "Oh!" she cried, "Come in, come in, you must come in!" 

Rose was hustled inside, her lantern fizzling out and falling outside the door to roll away as the doors slammed shut.  She gaped at the palace, which seemed nearly bigger on the inside (though that was impossible, wasn't it) and the woman who had granted her entry waited anxiously for Rose's attention to be back on her. 

"Hello," Rose said, "I've come from town, and I'm looking for my mother-"

"Yes, I know where she is!" The woman said, "I'm Sarah Jane, now please follow me!" 

Rose followed the woman, who was near hysterical, down, down, down to the castle dungeon. It was not exactly what Rose had expected when she had entered the lavish castle, but she understood why she had been brought here when she saw her mother sitting dejectedly on the floor of a cell, in her finery from the night before. 

"Mum!" she cried out, falling to her knees. 

"Oh, Rose, thank goodness you're here!" Jackie cried. "There's a horrible man here, Rose, he locked me in here, we've got to get out of here!"

A few more scuttling noises accompanied two more people running down the stairs.  The man, a dark haired, blue eyed beauty, spoke first. "I'm Jack, that's Donna, you've met Sarah Jane, who are you?"

"Rose Tyler," she said, standing up, drawing up to her full height. "Which one of you wants to explain to me why my mother is in a cell and why I had to search high and low for her all day only to _not find her?"_

Jack winced. "My lady, it wasn't any of us, it was our master.  He-"

They were cut off with the sound of said master coming down the stairs to join them. When Rose saw him, she nearly gasped. He was beautiful, but it looked like his face had been etched out of hard stone, or even ice, with the way he was scowling at her.  He looked positively livid that there was yet another person in his home.

"Sarah Jane, Jack, Donna," he began, not taking his eyes from Rose. "Would either of you like to explain to me why there is another woman here?"

"That's my mum," Rose cut off anyone else from answering, showing that she was not afraid of this man. "Let her out."

The man laughed.  "I think not!" He said, "She trespassed onto my property, as have you, I might add. "

"I only trespassed because you took my mother," Rose said, deciding it was best not to tell the master of the house that Sarah Jane had been the one to let her in. 

"Oh?  So what do you propose we do about this situation?" He asked, looking almost bored with her.

She tilted her chin up. "Take me instead," she demanded bravely.

He raised his eyebrows.  "What?"

"Take me instead," she repeated. "Let my mother go home in exchange for my freedom."

Jackie got to her feet in the cell.  "Rose, no!" She cried. 

"Silence!" The man boomed. He laced his hands behind his back, a motion of expert confidence. He looked Rose over.  "You would be far too delicate to place in a cell," he mused, staring into her eyes.  "So, _unfortunately,_ we'd have to give you a room in the palace."

"My lord, may I suggest-"

One stiff glance from the master of the house shut Jack up immediately, almost sending him cowering into the corner.  He looked back to Jackie and then Rose. 

"I accept your terms. What is your name?"

"Rose.  What's yours?"

A dark look passed over his face.  "Never mind that.  Your mother may leave, but I add one term of my own."

"And what's that?" 

"You must stay here... Forever."

Jackie gasped.  "No, Rose, no!"

"Deal," Rose said coldly.  She turned to her mother with a pleading look.  "All you have to do is tell Mickey and Shareen I'm safe," she said, "Please, mum, I can't let you live in this... This... _Pit."_

It appeared as though even if Jackie had wanted to stay, it was not a topic up for discussion.  The lord of the house snapped his fingers and the cell door opened, and Jackie tumbled out. Rose caught her and the two women embraced before Jack timidly approached them. 

"I'm sorry, ma'am, it's time to go."

"I don't want to leave Rose."

"I'm granting you your freedom, you stupid woman!  Go!" the lord roared, and Jack took Jackie by the arm to lead her out of the house. 

He turned his fuming gaze on Rose. "Donna, take Rose upstairs to her new room, and lock her in.  There is no need for her to come out of the dungeon that will be so _plush_ and to her liking."

Donna approached Rose, who was still staring at the lord of the house with a defiance that could match the most rebellious individual.

"Come on, love, best do as he says," Donna said, and Sarah Jane came on Rose's other side so she would not have to speak with her master. 

He stood there, fuming as they walked away. 

Her room was actually quite lovely.  It had a massive bed and wardrobe and a desk with a mirror, and adjacent to it was a very nice little en suite. She furrowed her brows. 

"Why is he so bent on having a prisinor?" She asked.  "It seems a bit extreme."

"It is," Donna said sadly, rolling her eyes. "But that's just how he is, the daft fool.  And we're to obey him."

Rose furrowed her brows, understanding that perhaps these were people who could not get work elsewhere.  "Of course," she said, "But locking me in?  might as well put me in a cell."

"Be careful what you wish for, my dear," Sarah Jane said darkly. "Now, we'll return to bring you something to eat soon, but we must lock you in as our lord commands."

"I understand," Rose said, fidgeting.  "Thank you, for being so kind to me."

Donna and Sarah Jane both offered Rose reassuring smiles before closing the door. Rose, in return, collapsed onto the bed, her strong facade breaking, and she cried herself to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

The master of the house, who was the Prince, John Smith, paced around angrily in his sitting room, his servants watching him flit about to and fro.  Their eyes followed him and they all waited for him to say something.

"She is even more infuriating than the mother!" he roared finally, scrubbing his hands through his hair almost violently, an angry dimple sticking out.  

Jack shifted uncomfortably and walked forward.  "But, my lord, she is beautiful."

"Her beauty has nothing to do with it, just as mine is unnecessary," John turned to Jack.  "I am a slave to my appearance."

Donna, catching on to what Jack was staying, stood forward.  "You know, sir, she could be the one."

John's eyes snapped to her.  "What did you say?"

"She could be the one," Donna repeated, folding her arms defiantly.  "The one to break the spell."

He seemed to stand a little taller at that.  "Do you... No," he slumped again.  "No one can love me, that's why I was cursed to begin with."

Sarah Jane frowned at him.  "Well, with that attitude, no one's going to love you," she said.  Sarah Jane usually didn't give much tough love, so this comment earned her two surprised stares and one fuming one.

"You should invite her down to have dinner with you," Jack suggested suddenly, "She hasn't eaten, you know."

John seemed to ponder this, shifting from one foot to the other.  He scratched the back of his neck. "Yes.... Yes, I'm sure it would be beneficial for her to eat.  Do you think... I should let her roam the palace?"

"I think it would be wise, my lord," Sarah Jane said encouragingly.

"But not the West Wing," John said fiercely.

Jack nodded. "Sir, I will go with you to invite the lovely Rose to dinner.  Perhaps I can help you speak to her."

John seemed reluctant, but agreed.  "Alright," he said, sounding unsure.  Without waiting for Jack, he turned on his heel and strode towards the stairs that led to the room that Rose was being kept in. He walked like a man on a mission, his footsteps light as though he was preparing to run.  Jack trailed along behind, keeping a respectful distance between them.

They reached the door and Jack wondered if John could sense where Rose was being kept, since he was sure no one had told him.  John hammered on the door with his fist and Jack winced, waving a head up to make him stop.  John looked at him, confused.

"Gentle," Jack mouthed, and John rolled his eyes but knocked quieter.

"Yes?" Rose's voice lilted out from inside the room and John fidgeted nervously.  "Who is it?"

"The Lord of the House, John," he said, his voice harsh and commanding.

"Gentle," Jack repeated, more exasperated this time.  

Rose was quiet for a moment, then seemed to realize that she needed to speak to him.  She shifted, as though climbing off the bed, and approached the door.  "Hello," she said weakly.

"I have come to invite you...." he paused to look at Jack, who nodded and smiled before giving him a thumbs up. John cleared his throat.  "I've come to invite you to come down to have dinner with me in about twenty minutes.  And, you may come down yourself. I was foolish to lock you in.  But you must never enter the West Wing, anywhere else is... Is fine."

Jack's smile fell and he shook his head.  John sighed. He had been aware that he was talking to fast for her to comprehend anything, much less all of it. 

"Uh." Was all she said for a moment, and he heard her shifting.  "No thank you."

"To which?" he replied, fire behind his tone.

"To dinner." She said calmly. She was being so polite, how could she be acting this way?  He was a prince, for God's sake and he was handsome! That alone should make her want to have dinner with him.

"What do you mean, ' _no to dinner'?"_  He asked, his voice low and dangerous.

Rose sighed behind the door and it was really a lovely sound. Maybe he shouldn't have shouted at her.  She walked somewhere else and her voice sounded farther away when she spoke next.  "I mean, I will not be joining you for dinner. Thank you for the offer.  Thank you for letting me go about the castle."

Well, he couldn't tell her not to go about the castle now.  She would have to be allowed, and it was probably better that she was allowed anyway, so he had at least some chance of running into her.  Still, the fact that she had outright refused him set anger coursing through him and he clenched his fists at his sides.  He turned to Jack, a storm brewing behind his eyes.  

"If she doesn't eat with me, she starves!" he shouted, his voice echoing down the corridors, and he turned from the room, brushing past Jack and stalking away.

Inside her room, Rose flinched at the words and the tone he put behind them.  She laced her fingers together and set them on her knees.  She was growing hungry, of course she was, but she couldn't eat with him, she couldn't.  He was dangerous and mean, and the only thing that pulled her was his attractiveness. She wondered what he looked like smiling, or when his brows weren't drawn together, or what he looked like when his eyes were full of life instead of death.

Well, that obviously wasn't him, and it wasn't someone he intended to be either, so she set about pacing her room.  She counted off the minutes and glanced at the clock that was on the bedside table, and soon it was nine o' clock at night and she was finding herself rather peckish indeed. 

She wondered if he was downstairs.  She wanted to sneak down to the kitchen and grab something, perhaps she could.  It wouldn't be that hard, would it?  Worrying her bottom lip, she straightened her skirt and decided that if that bloody _rat_ John didn't want her to eat, she would have to defy him by eating.  

It was a careful trek downstairs.  The lights were mostly off, save for several candles lighting her way.  She crept along down the stairs and searched her way to the kitchen.  She had meant to sneak a hunk of bread or something, but Donna was there, reading a book and sipping a cup of tea.  She glanced up when she saw Rose come in and Rose shrank back. 

"Oh, no, don't go!" Donna stood and approached Rose, taking her hands. "You must be starving, come on, I'll fix you something up."

"I don't want to be any trouble," Rose managed to get out as Donna tugged her towards the dining room.  

"No trouble.  Our lord is a fool, dear, you can't not eat.  Come, sit, sit, Sarah Jane!  Come down here, please, and fetch Wilf!"

Wilf, as it turned out, was the cook, an elderly man with an easy smile and happy demeanor.  Jack and Sarah Jane came down as well, arguing that Rose shouldn't eat along.  Wilf pulled out what appeared to be leftovers from that night.  

It was a proper feast, more food than Rose had seen in her entire life. There was turkey and vegetables and bread and fruit and pastries.  She felt overwhelmed but graciously accepted everything that was offered.  

All in all, it was a merry event.  The servants were kind and made her feel right at home, even if their master did not.  She laughed and talked and found herself feeling as though she were at an extravagant ball rather than eternal imprisonment.  When she had eaten her fill she asked to be shown the rest of the castle. 

"A tour?!  Of course!" Jack said, throwing his hands up in excitement. "Donna and I will show you all around, don't you worry!:

Donna rolled her eyes. "Alright then, Sarah Jane, Wilf, looks like you're off the hook for the night."

"Well, I wasn't going to come even if you asked me to," Wilf replied, throwing Rose a wink before he and Sarah Jane set about clearing the table.  Rose giggled and looked back to her new friends.

"Thank you," She said as they stood.

"Oh, no trouble," Jack waved his hand, "We wouldn't want you getting lost."

Rose did want to see the castle, as she was going to be spending a lot of time there, but she had an ulterior motive for going on a tour. She had heard John mention something about the West Wing, and how she must not go there.  Somehow that made her want to go there even more, and she found herself chewing her thumbnail and thinking long and hard about it.

Jack and Donna were chattering on and on about the history of the castle, and while it was fascinating, Rose couldn't really bring herself to care at all.  She nodded and hummed affirmation at all the appropriate times, but wasn't really paying attention at all.  She checked to make sure they weren't watching her and ducked off into the West Wing when her first opportunity came.

It was a few moments later when Jack turned around and Rose was gone. He alerted Donna to it and furrowed his brows. "Do you think she's gotten lost?"

Donna thought for a moment.  "Let her go," she said gently, "Perhaps if she does some things herself he will see that her spirit matches the energy of his own."  They both headed off down the corridor, now on a stroll and not a tour.

The West Wing was much colder and darker than the rest of the castle.  Rose felt fear prickle up her spine but she didn't let it hinder her.  She looked at the portraits of what she supposed was the royal family.  Subconsciously, she looked for portraits of John, but some were turned to face the wall and she assumed those would be the ones.  They were too high up for her to reach or change, unfortunately, so she kept on. 

She came across a portrait of John, sitting still but with a light dancing in his eyes.  She cocked her head and observed it through the knife slashes that went through it.  Why had he done that?  She moved on, and found a great mahogany door ajar to her left. 

She stepped towards it and saw John standing inside the room.  Shadows crawled up his body and across his face.  His hands were braced on a small table, on which was a rose, standing up by sheer force, a glass cover over it.  The only light in the room seemed to come from that rose, the unearthly golden light reaching up to shine onto John's nose and mouth.  He looked older like this somehow, haggard and tired. 

Without thinking, she took another step forward and the pressure of her shoe on the floorboard resulted in a mighty creak that made her flinch. And she wasn't the only one.  John's head whipped up, his hands coming off the table, and he stared at her, the light only capturing one side of him, the other half plunged into the darkness of the room. 

His shoulders rose slightly, as though he were a cat ready to attack its prey.  She stayed still, shaking slightly with fear and excitement.  She'd been caught in the West Wing, exactly where he'd told her not to go. To be quite honest, she hadn't bet on him being _in_ the West Wing when she'd sneaked away from Jack and Donna. 

"What are you doing here?" His voice was low and menacing and she would've considered lying if she hadn't known what would befall her. As it were, she did know, could sense it in her bones, what he was going to do to her if she lied. 

"I'm sorry," she said simply, "I didn't mean to intrude on-"

"I told you not to come here," he cut her off, stepping forward slowly, as though he was barely holding himself back.  "I commanded you, I said this was the one place you couldn't go!" 

Rose shook more violently and took a step back as he took one forward. "I'm sorry," she whispered, "I really am, I'm sorry."

"Get out!" He shouted, pushing a vase from another table to the floor.  "You get away!" 

His eyes lifted up to hers and she gasped at what was behind them.  He was almost unlike a man at all.  She didn't know if he'd hurt her or not, but she wasn't much looking forward to take that risk at all.  He turned away from her and began smashing other things in the room, but not the glass container the rose was held in, never that.  Century old vases and knick knacks exploded into dust on the floor as he raged. 

Finally, her feet found themselves, and after she stumbled over them, she fled, hearing the sounds of him crying out behind her.


	4. Chapter 4

Rose ran blindly, not thinking about where she was going.  She didn't know this man, and by the looks of it, he could easily rip her in half.  She ran from the castle, nearly forgetting her promise to stay for her mother's freedom in her fear.  It was night, the deepest dark, hardly a star to light the sky.  She panted heavily, trying to recall which way she had come from.

She didn't have to think long, though, because suddenly, a wolf jumped her, and she cried out, falling to the ground.  It advanced upon her slowly, its teeth bared and snarling at her.  She shrank back as she saw other wolves coming out from the brush.  She tried to scramble back to the castle, but there were two wolves behind her.  She stumbled and collapsed into the brush again, knowing that there was nothing she could do. 

To her surprise, the doors swung open and John emerged, looking for her, no doubt.  He looked angry, downright furious, but once he saw what was happening around her, he seemed to forget that he was supposed to be livid.  He heaved her up roughly by the elbow and shoved her behind him.  His very presence seemed to startle the wolves, and they shrank back, though they did not retreat.  He shouted then, not a word, but something more akin to a note, and the wolves whimpered and fled, barking and howling and tripping over each other's tails.

All except one. 

There was one wolf who stood head on.  John lunged forward for it, most likely hoping to scare it, and it jumped up and sunk its teeth into his shoulder.  John shouted in pain and shoved the wolf off of him.  It fell on its back and darted from sight after its friends. 

Rose felt what her mother would call 'womanly instincts' tugging at her and she collapsed next to him, looking at the bite wound.  "I can fix it," she said softly. 

John's teeth were gritted, and he almost looked like one of the beasts he'd driven away from her.  He nodded, not looking at her, instead scanning the woods to make sure no other animals would come after them.

She was afraid to touch him, she was not afraid to think that to herself.  She reached out though, and gently grasped his arm under his wound, and helped him to stand.  He leaned on her and she suspected under any other circumstances he would have ripped his arm away from her and strode in the castle himself, but, being of the stature he was, he was probably unused to being hurt, much less this seriously.  His blood spilled over the fine material of his blue coat and she urged him to move faster. 

"Sarah Jane!  Jack!" Rose called out as they entered, "I need first aid!  Now!"

They were quick in their response, and Donna stumbled in as well, when she heard the ruckus that was being caused.  Rose led John to the large chair in front of the fireplace that (she didn't know, of course) her mother had sat in.  He collapsed into it, breathing heavily. 

"Do you need any help?" Jack asked. 

"No," Rose replied with certainty. "I can take care of him."

The servants left, bidding quiet goodnights and hopeful looks before leaving the two alone.  Rose carefully helped John remove his jacket and shushed him gently when he hissed in pain.  "It looks worse than it is," she promised.  

She cleaned the wound carefully and quietly, and while neither of them spoke, she could feel his eyes on her as she knelt before him.  He watched her hands and her face, as though unable to believe that only was she here, but helping him.  

"Thank you," she said softly.

He blinked in surprise.  What could she possibly have him to thank for?  "For what?" He asked gruffly, probably with a bit more edge in his voice than he had intended, and she winced slightly. 

"For saving my life," she said, "Those wolves would have surely ripped me apart had you not come to my rescue."

"Oh," he turned away from her.  "It was nothing," he said, clearly unused to compliments. 

Rose smiled, biting her lip to keep it less noticeable.  "Right," she said, "Well, thank you none the less."

"You broke your promise." He said it softly, almost as though he'd been hurt by the fact that she had left.

Her smile fell.  "Yes.  I'm sorry.  That was.... Wrong.  I'd promised you I would stay and then I didn't."

He wasn't about to admit that he had been in the wrong as well. His shouting had not exactly been warranted.  It was ridiculous.  But he was a proud man, which was exactly his problem.  Which was _exactly_ why that witch had cursed him to begin with.

Rose could tell that he was lost in thought and finished cleaning and bandaging his wound without saying another word.  She sat back on her heels and peered up at him.  "You'll need to clean it tomorrow," she said, breaking him from his reverie.

"Yes, of course," he said, his gruff demeanor back in place after a single moment of tenderness.  "Perhaps you would like to join me for breakfast tomorrow, and you could help me?"

She seemed surprised by this, her eyes widening slightly.  But, after all, he'd asked her much nicer this time, than when he had asked about dinner.  She nodded, the look of shock still worn on her face. She blinked, clearing it, and cleaned her hands on a clean rag she'd brought to clean his wound with and not needed.  She chewed her bottom lip for a moment as he watched her intently, and she nodded. 

"Yes," she said, "I think that would be fine."

John, in turn, was completely flabbergasted by her acceptance and he opened and closed his mouth a couple times before nodding.  "Yes.  Yes, alright then.  I'll have Sarah Jane fetch you in the morning," he said, trying to bring back his princely air for just a moment. 

"Okay," she replied, and got to her feet.  "Well, I'll just be going to bed then.  I hope you'll be healing up nicely," she said a touch awkwardly.  

He nodded curtly.  "Goodnight," he said abruptly.  

She thought she'd gotten through to him, even if it was just for a moment.  She sighed and turned from him, mounting the stairs to go to bed.  There was a nightgown laid out on the bed, as though someone had suspected that she would want to fall straight into bed when she arrived in the room.  She changed quickly, folding up her dress and placing it at the bottom of the wardrobe that was in her room.  

Feeling wrought with exhaustion, she fell into bed and curled in upon herself, willing herself to fall asleep.  This wasn't fair at all. She wanted to be happy, and now she was trapped forever with a man who was a beast on the inside.  

****

The next morning, Sarah Jane knocked on the door and called out for her.  Rose lifted her head from the pillow and groaned, trying to bury herself in the covers. 

"I know, my lady," Sarah Jane said sympathetically.  "But the master will be angry if you do not accompany him for breakfast."

Rose sat up and opened the door, rubbing her eye. "Hello, Sarah Jane," she mumbled.  "I'll just get dressed and be right down."

Sarah Jane smiled. "My suggestion?  The dark pink gown will go excellently with your complexion."

Rose nodded but furrowed her brows in confusion. Why did it matter what color she wore?  After pondering that for several moments, she shook her head as Sarah Jane left.  She shut her door and turned back to the wardrobe.  A dark pink gown.  After sifting through the wardrobe, she found the dress Sarah Jane must have been talking about. She breathed out a sigh when she saw it. It was more lovely than any dress she had ever owned, and it looked like (miraculously) it would fit.  It fell to her feet, when she put it on, had a tight fitting bodice with lace accents and three quarter length sleeves that flattered her just right. She adjusted the square neckline and peered at herself in the mirror.  Well, Sarah Jane was right, it was very nice against her skin, though she did feel a bit overdressed for a simple breakfast. 

She brushed out her hair at the vanity and prepared to go downstairs.   He'd been kind, if even for a moment, the night before, and she was curious about him. He was roguish and angry, but Rose suspected that there was more to him than that.  He seemed afraid.  Of what, she wasn't sure, but there was most certainly fear in his eyes.  

And, he was quite handsome.  But that didn't stop her from being slightly repulsed by him.  He was filled with a temper that scared her.  She winced when she thought about how he'd shouted at her, prompting her to run, to try and get as far away as possible.  And he'd followed.

If he had caught her, would he have tried to drag her back into the palace by her hair? Or would he try the more civilized approach?  Would he have apologized?  he was attractive, but she had to be honest when she told herself that that was the only part of him that was attractive.  His attitude was riddled with the disease of contempt, his heart full of hatred.  She couldn't stop herself from wondering what made him that way.  And why she had never heard of him.  She knew she was far from home.   _Far_ from home, perhaps farther than she had ever been. It was entirely possible that she was in an entirely different kingdom now.  

She wrung her hands in nervousness.  What would he expect her to talk about? It was clear that he was a lord of some sort, but she was the daughter of a woman who was now widowed and she could speak of nothing but cooking and books.  it was certainly not enough for someone of his stature.  Why would he even associate himself with her?  Why had he asked to have dinner with her the night before?  He truly was a completely odd man, and she wasn't sure how long she could stand this imprisonment. 

Her mind warred with itself until she realized she was going to have to go downstairs before he threw a fit because she was late. He scared her, this man, made her feel small.  She stood before the mirror and lifted her chin.  She would pretend to be as regal as a queen, even if she was no more than a peasant.  It didn't matter. She could play queen for a day if she wanted.  And the bitter man awaiting her downstairs could... She fought for a word... Well, if he didn't like it, that was his problem, she thought decisively.  He'd taken her physical freedom, but he could not take her spirit.

She exited her room and saw Donna waiting outside, a happy, cheerful looking smile on her face.  "Hello, Miss Tyler."

"Rose, please," Rose implored, grasping Donna's arm.  "I'm but a simple prisinor after all."

Donna frowned. "I'm sure you're more than that, Rose."  She put an emphasis on her name that made Rose giggle a bit.   "Now," Donna continued, "You march yourself right down to breakfast, and you make that stodgy man have fun if it kills him."

Rose rolled her eyes.  "To be fair, Donna, I don't really know that I can do that," she admitted, "I don't want to be here just as much as he really doesn't want me here. I know he doesn't, and I'd rather like to go home as well.  As far as I'm concerned, we're on the same page."

Silence fell between them as Donna struggled to find something to say.  She knew Rose wanted to leave, but she also knew that John _didn't_ want her to leave, not if he could help it. 

"Well, either way," Donna said, struggling with the words, "You've got to eat something."


	5. Chapter 5

Rose descended the stairs with Donna, the other woman chatting in an animated fashion with her.  She seemed excited and chipper, though she couldn't figure out why she was feeling that way.  Rose wondered how anyone could be happy in this hell. 

It _was_ hell, she decided, no matter how well the master of the house had treated her for mere moments the night before. That was probably a lapse in judgement for him, and she was sure that she would remain cold against him.  

When she got to the dining room, he wasn't there, so she sat at the head of the very long table and waited for him to appear.  The three servants bustled around her, serving food and chatting with her. Jack even offered her a friendly wink that made her giggle before he slid a plate of toast onto the table.

Finally, the lord of the house, Prince John, came into the room.  He was dressed for a lavish dinner, and he regarded her carefully.  "Hello."

"Good morning," Rose replied, "I believe that you didn't want me to be late, and yet here you are... Late to see me."

John let out a mirthless laugh.  "Well, I think you'll find that the master of a castle does not need to be on time for anything, does he?"

Rose pursed her lips.  "It's only polite.  You invited me to breakfast. It should be expected that you should show up when you said you would.  Donna retrieved me, did she not think to come for you?"

"I can do what I wish," he replied.  "Simply enjoy that I have invited you to be in my presence.  I'd like to take you on a tour of the castle... In the places that you are actually allowed to go."

Despite what she was trying to do, remain indifferent, she laughed.  She quickly covered it up and started putting food on her plate.  He sat at the head of the table on the end opposite her and started serving himself on her. 

They were quietly, painfully quiet.  No one spoke.  Donna, Sarah Jane, and Jack all exchanged confused looks.  They needed to talk if they were supposed to fall in love, and no one was doing that. 

When breakfast came to a quiet close, John got to his feet.  "Follow me, please," he said, "I want to show you the gardens. 

Rose came to his side, but stayed a careful distance from him, which almost seemed to hurt his feelings.  He drew his brows together and walked towards the hallway to a wing of the castle that she'e never been in.

"Here's the south wing," he said, walking a few steps ahead of her.  He gave her a bland explanation of each room, seeming very bored to even be talking to her.  Rose furrowed her brows and stopped walking. 

"Sir?" She asked, unsure of how she should address him.  He turned around and raised his eyebrows as though silently asking "what?" 

"Is there no history here?" She asked, crossing her arms.  "You talk as though you know nothign about this place when it's clear that you've lived here all your life. Pardon me, but I don't think that you're quite that boring."

" _Quite_ that boring?" 

"I've not had a conversation with you in which I don't want to go to sleep or run in fear," Rose said sharply. "You could tell me about the place I'm going to be spending my whole bloody life in, since that's my punishment."

John sighed. "Fine."

He began to explain the history of the palace then, cautiously at first and she didn't think he wanted to talk.  It was slow, his explanation.  He talked of kings and queens and wars and love and loss.  She listened intently as they walked and he pointed out portraits and what certain emblems meant, and the family coat of arms.

"Well, what kingdom are you the prince of?" Rose asked conversationally, and John turned white as a sheet before turning to her, his eyes like steel.

"How-"

"It's obvious that you're important.  You live in a castle, and I recognize some of these names, though I don't really know where they're from, you know." She regarded him carefully. "But obviously you don't want to talk about it, so I won't push you at all."

"You shouldn't push me," he snapped, "You are here because of your mother's stupid decision to enter my castle without my permission.  I don't have to explain myself to you!"

"I didn't say you did," Rose replied, crossing her arms. "You need to get your head out of your arse, sir, because there's obviously something wrong with you!"

"You are _not_ the first person to tell me that!" John roared.  "I don't have to show you anything! Ever!"

"Well, I have to live here, so you might as well be kind to me," Rose replied, lowering her voice down to a lower decibel.  "I think you should think about that.  I have to be here.  You have to be here, too.  I don't know why, of course."  She tilted her chin up to lift her confidence.  "I wish my mother had never come here."

John opened and closed his mouth, and she realized that in some way she had won.  He wasn't saying that he wished she'd never come here, which was what she had expected.  But there was something that was keeping him from saying all the rude things he was thinking about her. 

"I want to show you the gardens," he said, as though it pained him to do so.  His voice was strangled. 

"Alright," she replied, lacing her fingers together in front of her.  "If you want to."

He gave a terse nod and walked away from her.  She lengthened her stride and chased after him, trying to catch up to walk at his side.  He stopped at a door on their right, with a golden handle.  He opened it and gestured for her to enter the gardens. 

She watched him for a moment before taking a step into the gardens.  She let out a gentle sigh of awe.  It was beautiful.  There were flowers everywhere, all sorts of flowers, and free of weeds.  There were vegetables and other plants, even a few trees formed in a arc over a bench.  "It's lovely," she said softly, walking straight towards the flowers.  She knelt before them, not giving a regard to the material of her dress.  

"Who takes care of it?" She asked, looking up at him. 

"Sarah Jane," John said, scratching the back of his neck.  "She does it because... She has nothing else to do.  There's lots of work to be done around here."

"I can see that," Rose said, "This place is massive."

John seemed incredibly stiff, but followed her around the garden. Rose stayed away from the bench under the tree arc. It was too romantic, honestly, and the idea of romance with someone like John was not very appealing.  It was not something that she needed, and certainly not something that he needed.  And, above all, Rose assured herself, it was something that neither of them needed together.

She didn't speak to him. It he was going to try and fix the way he'd talked to her, he was going to have to try a whole lot harder.  He was going to have to speak up.  She didn't deserve to be treated the way she was being treated and he should know that. 

He kept sighing behind her.  She wondered if he wanted to say something, because he certainly didn't have any breathing problems.  About the fifth sigh into their trek around the garden, she bit back a laugh and looked up at the sky instead.  Any happiness left her.  She wondered how her mother was doing.  Neither one of them had ever truly been alone since her father had died, and now she was never going to see her mother again. She'd nearly forgotten, or perhaps it just hadn't seemed real. 

She looked down at the ground. This wasn't fair.  She had just wanted shelter from the storm, and now she was being bound to a beautiful prison because of it. She refused to look back at John, her captor, the master of a beautiful palace, the prince.  What had happened to him to make him like this?  So bitter and angry and horrid and yet so beautiful in appearance.   It really wasn't fair, when she thought about it in a way that was objective and not that of somebody who hated their situation.  

"Have you ever seen gardens like this?" he asked softly.

"No," She said, and looked back at him. "I am a peasant.  I've never seen anything this beautiful."

He nodded jerkily.  "I do hope that you enjoy it, then."

"I do."

They looked at each other quietly and she nodded to herself and turned away from him again.  She had nothing left to say, there was only things to see.  The world that he had presented in such a blase fashion was more beautiful than any world she had even hoped to stumble across in her wildest dreams or in her mother's writings.  So she engrossed herself in it, ignoring John entirely, and looked about, resisting the urge to touch the petals that looked so soft and beautiful.

He kept himself a couple paces behind her, and she could practically feel how awkward he was being.  He even sounded uncomfortable, but not in a little boy way, more in a 'big strong man who was having a lot of trouble dealing with the present situation' way.  

But still, she ignored him, and he didn't seem to have too much trouble with that fact at all.  Finally, after about an hour of wandering about the gardens she turned to him and he looked at her like her mere gaze was an inconvenience. 

"What?" He asked gruffly.

"Why are you here?" She asked bluntly.

He blinked and shifted on his feet, as though he wanted to take a step back but didn't want to appear weak to her, as her captor, a certain air had to remain about him, and he was positive that he could keep said air there for as long as he wanted.

"What?" He repeated, with a different tone, a more dangerous one, 

"You've told me the history, yet you don't rule your kingdom.  Why?"

He scowled at her. "I need not tell you anything."

She nodded. "No," she agreed, "You need not, but seeing as I live under your roof I have a right to know."

"A prisinor has rights to nothing," he replied, tilting his chin, "And you, least of all, the lowest of all the beings in this castle, have rights to less than nothing."

Rose smiled. He couldn't get rid of her that easily, she was going to make sure of it. "That doesn't mean I'm not a person. You could at least treat me like a person."

He started.  He hadn't been expecting a response like that, not from her. He opened his mouth to protest but she spoke over him. 

"You treat me like the dirt beneath your feet and that stops now.  You demand I eat with you, only _offer_ during your one moment of weakness. I share your food and I have a room in your living space and if that is not enough for you to elevate me to the status of 'human' in your eyes, then I daresay that for the rest of my life I will avoid you in these halls."

She wasn't sure why panic seemed to set into his eyes at that, but it did, and he nodded.  He adopted a mask of cool features again and cleared his throat regally.  "Fine, then.  If that is all you demand from me, I must think myself lucky, don't you think?"

"Certainly."

They stared at each other, in a dead lock, and her lip quirked up in a smile. "I shall turn the tables on you, of great and powerful 'master of the house'.  How would it suit you if _y_ _ou_  joined _me_ for dinner tonight?  I would like to do as the people back home in my village do, and eat together before reading in front of a fireplace.  How does that sound?"

He crinkled his nose at her and looked away.  "I don't know how to read."

Her smile fell.  "You don't?"

"No," he said, and he wasn't about to tell her that it was part of the curse.  Surely, the witch had thought, if he had absolutely nothing to give but his beauty, it would take a truly special woman to love him. 

Rose didn't even flinch, just nodded tersely, even though she wondered at a prince not being able to read.  "Then I'll teach you."

"You'll what?" 

"I'll teach you," she repeated, slower, as if he was just a bit slow himself.  "I will see you at dinner tonight, my lord, and I trust that you won't be late to the meal this time."

She didn't actually know her way back to her room, but as she brushed past him to head out of the gardens it didn't seem to matter, because the prince stood right where he was, the expression on his face one of complete and utter shock.  


	6. Chapter 6

"You've got to be kinder to her, sir," Jack implored as he trialed after John, who was preparing for dinner.  "You're running out of time!"

"I know that, Jack," John snapped, "I know that the flower is losing petals faster than ever.  I'm almost out."

"So we'll be stuck here forever, and you'll never get to take the throne.  Is that what you want?"

"What do you suggest I do?" John turned on him and breathed out a ragged sigh before carding his hands through his hair, mussing it practically beyond repair.  

"Be kinder," Jack said again.  "She is a woman who looks to be very willing to love, and is kind herself.  She knows you are a prince and still hates you.  She knows you're attractive and still hates you.  I think you can persuade her to love you, if you would quit being a prat."  he put his hands on his hips. 

John sighed, "She knows I can't read, she doesn't know it's the curse."

"Are you going to tell her?"

John was incredibly uncomfortable by the whole situation. He _had_ known how to read.  Very well, actually, and he had memories of reading, just no longer had the ability.  "No, probably not.  She wants to teach me."

"Well, for God's sake, be nice to her!  You might get a snog out of it."

"Jack!"

"Whether you like it or not, it's probably what you need," Jack argued.  "She could be the one, sir.  The one who breaks the curse and becomes your queen."

John knew he was right.  He knew that he had to try and be better, which was about to be impossible, simply because of the fact that he had a bitter and angry nature since the curse ahd settled over his home.

He pulled on a blue coat with gold trimmings and looked at himself in the mirror. "The one thing that never changes is my downfall," he remarked softly.

Jack smiled.  "Yes.  But it could work in your favor tonight.  Try."

Rose was early to dinner just to make absolutely certain that John was on time. She chatted with Sarah Jane and Donna, who both seemed nervous, though she couldn't figure out why.  John arrived on time this time and she offered him a smile when he sat across form her.

"I'm going to be honest," She said, "I wasn't about to think that you were going to show up<' she smiled widely.  "But, here you are."

"Here I am," he agreed, "It occurs to me that you were right."

"I'm glad you finally see reason."

He scowled at her briefly before he realized that she was teasing with him. Who did she think she was to tease with him?  It was even more alarming when he realized that he sort of liked it.  She was.. She was good fun.  perhaps he had underestimated her after all. 

"Tell me about where you come from," he implored gently when Wilf and Donna had set out all the food for them. 

Rose cleared her throat and took a sip of her water.  "Well, it's a very small village. I live in a cottage on the outskirts of town.  It's lovely, really.  My mother writes, and lots of people think she went crazy after my dad did."  She smiled. "She's not crazy though, just creative, and they don't know how to handle that."

"And you?" He asked, "What about you?" 

She answered honestly only because he was the master of the house. If Jimmy had been asking her these questions she would have scowled at him and not said a word.  But this was different, of course it was.  He had an innocence about him that Jimmy did not.  John was a gentle beast, with a rage that could still be invoked. 

"I love to read," she said, "I don't do much else.  I go on errands, I tend the house, we make money in any way that we can...  And that's all."

"You do not have a betrothed."

She snorted, and he smiled at the unladylike sound.  She shook her head.  "I have a pompous pig who tries to claim me," she said, and leaned her cheek in her hand.  "A woman does not want to be claimed, she wants to be earned.  Loved.  It should not be very difficult but it seems to be something that many men cannot understand."

"I will keep that in mind."

She hummed softly in the back of her throat and took a bite of her roast duck.  "I want you to tell me about you," she said, "What was your childhood like?"

"Lonely," he said softly, "I was only allowed to associate with others of my stature, and they were all quite boring, honestly.  Boys and girls whose brains were older than their bodies.  I wanted to stay young forever."

She grinned.  "How admirable of you."

He cringed, "It would seem that others in the kingdom did not think so."

She dropped the subject, sensing that somehow, it was very touchy for him.  They finished eating and Rose remarked that there were bookshelves in the sitting room.  She looked through the books, lifting up on her tiptoes to look at the volumes.  She still wore her pink dress, and the firelight danced over the fabric and her hair in a way that was really very becoming.  She hummed to herself and pulled down a book that was large but rather thin.  She showed it to John.

"Romeo and Juliet," she said, "One of the oldest love stories ever told, written by Shakespeare.  Tragic and lovely."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "And why, exactly, is that your pick?"

"It's a play," she told him, "And I think you would do well to read of selflessness."

She moved to the couch instead of the armchair in front of the fireplace, where she expected him to sit.  Instead, he came over and sat next to her, not too close, but close enough to indicate that he did, in fact, want to be next to her. 

The very thought of that was confusing, and she cocked her head at him.  He shifted in his seat and replied, "I rather think it would be good for me to follow along with you, in the book.  Perhaps that's a good way to learn."

Rose smiled, "It might be.  I've never taught someone how to read before," she said honestly, "Alright then, let's begin."

She placed her finger just under the words she was reading and read slowly, making a point to tell John which character was speaking.  He seemed to be able to keep up easily, understanding the story and not asking a single question. He leaned over her shoulder and read closer to her, his breath just barely touching her ear.  She was oblivious to all this, focused on the reading and making sure she was pointing at the right line.  

It was a story that took hours to read.  But suddenly the clock struck midnight and both of them jumped. They were on the last line of the play, and they had been reading for hours.  Rose finished the line, surprised that she hadn't been able to keep better time. 

"Well," he said, "I was certainly engrossed," he remarked.

She laughed. "And I."

He pulled farther away from her so that he could face her more.  She watched him, waiting for him to speak, her chin still tilted up in a manner of defiance that intrigued him more than made him angry.  

"Perhaps we shall meet before breakfast tomorrow and you can pick a simpler book to teach me from."

"If you would like," she replied.  "I do believe it's time I turned in, sir.  If you don't mind."

He nodded and stood as she did, out of respect that he wasn't sure that he'd shown to another woman before. "I don't mind at all."  He said.  "Goodnight, Miss Tyler."

She wrinkled her nose.  "Don't call me that.  I'm Rose."

"Rose."

She grinned, "See, you've got it."

He reached forward and took her hand, bringing it to his lips and pressing a kiss to her knuckles.  Her mouth fell open slightly and her breath hitched.  She was about to say something when he pulled away and disappeared, leaving her hand suspended in mid air. 

She shook herself.  No, she was not going to have Stockholm Syndrome for this random man who had treated her kindly for a night.  She was still a prisoner and one night was not going to change that.  She replaced the volume on the shelf and went up to bed. 

The next morning she dressed in a blue gown and taught John for the morning hours, him reading slowly over her shoulder.  He was a fast learner, and she didn't have to help him with easier books. She'd made sure not to pick children's books, as she had had a feeling that that would only offend him.  

It seemed that was a good pick, then, because she brought short, simple novels that he did very well with.  They sat in front of the fireplace, and he was closer to her than he had been the night before, and she told herself that it was simply because she needed to see what she was doing. 

In reality, being close to her instilled a sort of comfort in John that he had not felt in a long time.  She was soft and gentle and smiled with a gentility that was both ladylike and intriguing. She was beautiful, and he was certain that she didn't know it, which made her even more beautiful.  

He didn't want to think to himself, or even dare to think of thinking that perhaps he was changing, that she was changing him. It was too soon after all, and ridiculous.  She would never love him, and there as no reason for her to love him. He was beautiful, a handsome man to gaze upon, but to speak to, to interact with?  He left much to be desired.  

She didn't' seem to mind though, as she spoke to him like an equal.  She didn't seem to care about his appearance, which was exactly what he needed to save his life. He needed her, and he knew that now, could see it.  That would be wonderful.  To be free, and to be free with someone like her.  

Spring morphed into Fall, and she wore heavier clothes and sat closer to the fire and worried about her mother.  But she said nothing, because she was staring to feel attached to him in a way that was different than the Stockholm that she so feared.  He no longer snapped at her, or was even cruel or unkind in any way. He was careful with her, trying to win her over in the gentlest and most bashful of ways. And, oh, was he bashful.  He kissed her hand that one night and had not touched her since, as though afraid she would think him advancing upon her like Jimmy was.  That was, of course, never the intention.  He did not wish to drive her away, quite the opposite in fact.

Still her mind wandered to the West Wing, and she wondered what the rose in the room he had stood in meant.  He had looked so distressed, like that little flower was his lifeline.  He had been hunched over it, his head hung low.  What had happened to make him fear the death of a flower?  She wondered, and would continue forever, she thought.  Until, one day, she was certain that she would sneak in there again.  Someday, she promised herself, she would figure him out, almost as though he was a puzzle.  A puzzle who was molding to her will. 

He liked her, she could tell, but the way he went about it was that of a frightened schoolboy.  It was flattering, nothing like the brute advancements of Jimmy Stone.  She walked through the gardens one day when she realized a white flake was falling from the sky. She held her hands out and caught it before retreating to the safety of her cloak and shivering.  

It was the first flake of the winter.  Fall had morphed into winter, and here she was still.  She tried not to cry, and bit her lip, trying not to think about the fact that she hadn't seen her mother in so long.  She sat on the brick next to some exotic flowers and placed her hand over her mouth. How was she doing?  Were the people in the village still calling her crazy? Was she safe?

John had been watching her, hoping to surprise her with a present.  He looked down at the thick book tied up with a bow and hung his head before turning away.  He'd seen her tears starting.  He only wanted her to be happy.  Perhaps her gift would be better received tomorrow.  With a heavy heart, he retreated from the gardens. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I was MIA for so long, I had con all weekend :)

The next few days passed slowly, as John tried to cautiously approach Rose several times.  She spoke to him, but he could tell that she was sad.  He just wanted to make her happy so that she would stay; make her feel loved and cherished.  One night he stood before her door, rocking on his heels and holding the present in his hands, the gift he had been so ready to give her when she had been in the gardens.

He clutched the gift, hoping that she would want to speak to him. She opened the door, wearing a long blue nightgown with a white satin dressing gown over it.  She smiled when she saw him and tucked some hair behind her ear.  "Hello," she said, her expression open. 

"I have something for you," he said roughly, pushing the book towards her.  She tied her dressing gown shut and took it from him, grinning. 

"Thank you," she said, tearing the cover off of it.  She gasped softly and ran her fingers over the cover of it.  "Pride and Prejudice," she said softly, "I love this book."

He breathed out a sigh of relief.  "I thought you might.  But that's... Uh, I mean to say that that's only one small part of the present."

She looked up at him curiously, "What?"

"I have something better for you," he said, and tapped the book.  "This is one of the first copies of this book in the world.  I want to give you something else."

She nodded, her face looking like it was going to split with her grin. "Okay," she said, and he shoved out his elbow for her to slide her arm through.  She accepted, looping her arm through his and smiling up at him.

They passed Donna, Jack, and Sarah Jane on the way to where they were going, and the three of them grinned madly.  He looked so nervous, like a little boy with a new toy who was a little scared that he would break it, but wanted to keep it all the same.  

"Here, close your eyes," he said, his voice gentler than she had ever heard it.  She looked at him a little curiously and closed her eyes, her lashes fluttering a bit with the motion.  He led her to the giant double doors and opened them, letting them swing inward.  He took a step forward and led her in before moving to sit behind her.  "This is all yours," he whispered, his hands settling on her shoulders.  He felt her fingertips brush over the back of his hand and he shivered.  She opened her eyes and gasped. 

"Oh, my gosh," she whispered, clutching the book to her chest with one arm.  "Oh!  It's so beautiful!"

Before her was a giant library, with massive windows that looked out into the back gardens.  She had never looked in the windows, never noticed it before now.  The ceilings were high and the bookshelves were almost as high.  Her mouth gaped slightly and she ran into the room further, looking at the couch and high backed chairs that sat before the fireplace in the room.  

"It's yours," he said, putting his hands behind his back. 

She set her new book very gently on the coffee table in front of the couch before turning to him.  "What do you mean, it's mine?" She asked. 

"This room belongs to you," he said, "It's yours to do what you like with, to live in, whatever you would like."

Rose smiled widely and ran for him, throwing her arms around his neck. The breath went out of him but he caught her, holding her tightly around the waist.  She squeezed him around the neck, giggling happily into his neck.  He slid his hands up and down her back before gripping her tightly to himself. 

They stood clutching each other for several moments before she pulled back, her arms looped loosely around his shoulders.  "This is the best gift I could've ever gotten," she said honestly, running her fingers through the short hairs on the nape of his neck.  His hands rested carefully on her waist, wanting to pull her close again but refraining.  

"We could read in here," she said softly, "Why didn't you tell me about this room sooner?  We've been in the sitting room for all this time."

"I wanted to find the perfect time to give it to you," he said softly, "Because ever since you patched me up I... I wanted it to be yours.  It belongs to me no more."

She smiled up at him, her eyes shining. "Well, I invite you to come into my library whenever you want to," she told him, a sort of authority in her tone that made her smile even wider.  He listened to her, and she had to wonder what had happened to him to inspire such a change. He was so different now. Oh, there was still anger, lurking beneath the surface, but he was not quite so miserable.  

He smiled back at her. "Alright, I might take you up on that," he said, looking down at her with a sort of liveliness that he wasn't sure that he'd ever felt before. 

"Take me up on it now, let's read."

"I thought you were going to go to bed... you looked like-" he stammered, unsure.

"I was, but now I want to read."  She got up on her toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek before flouncing over to the couch, gazing about happily at the books.  He stood stock still in awe and happiness before following her, sitting next to her on the couch.  She picked up her new book and pressed herself up against his side, pulling her feet up next to him.  

He cautiously wrapped his arm around her shoulders, peering at the book as she began to read.  He followed, pleased to see that his ability to read was improving, almost as though he was being given it back.  Like his curse had never happened.  

She read softly, her voice lilting and full of inflection.  He sighed happily against her hair and she turned to look at him.  "What's wrong?" She asked worriedly, putting her finger where she had been reading to mark her place.  

He let himself open up to her, didn't hide his expression from her.  "Absolutely nothing is wrong," he promised, and she smiled before beginning her reading again. but she wasn't really paying attention to the words anymore.  She was fixated on him, on his arm around her shoulders, but carefully so, his leg close to hers, not touching, appropriate, but the heat of it touching her in ways that she didn't want to think about.  

She was growing attached to him, attached to his attention and his kindness.  He treated her so well, almost as though he wasn't the same person who had imprisoned her before.  He was a changed man, and she could see it in his eyes and the way he held himself.  He was awkward and careful, like he didn't want to hurt her or scare her.  She wondered why he was so eager to win her affections.  

She leaned her head against his shoulder as she read, her voice growing sleepy.  She handed him the book after awhile and said sleepily "You read now," before curling up against his side.

"I don't know if I can, Rose," he said softly.

"You can, I think you can do it," she said, shifting to make herself more comfortable.  

He looked at her a little confused and held the book, looking at the words.  She'd taught him much, and he wanted her to be happy with him.  She rubbed her cheek against him and he was persuaded to read just with that.  He read quietly and slowly, struggling over words. Every once in awhile she would tell him what the word was, just so he wouldn't have to struggle, and when she stopped helping him, he realized that she had fallen asleep.

He laid the book back on the coffee table and lifted her up in his arms, her head falling against his chest.  She hummed a little and snuggled closer against him, but didn't stir to awareness.  He carried her back to her room and on the way ran into Donna, who was grinning stupidly at him. 

He furrowed his brows at her. "What?" He whispered, almost offended with the look she was giving him.  

"You like her," she sing songed at him, dancing a little where she stood.  He wrinkled his nose at her. 

"I like her," he admitted, and Donna grinned.  "But she doesn't-"

"She does," Donna whispered kindly.  "Sir, she does.  Don't worry about dinner tomorrow.  Sarah Jane, Wilf and I will put together something special for you both," she said. 

"Thank you," John said, surprised.

Donna pointed at him, waggling her finger a bit. "See, you're changing already," she said, "You were just nice to me.  You would've never been nice to me before.  Or anyone, really.  That bitter look isn't on your face."  Donna smiled softly, lowering her hand.  "She makes you better."

John looked down at the girl in his arms, cuddled up and relaxed, her face beautiful and soft and smooth in sleep.  She did make him better, and he was willing to admit it.  He wanted to be around her more and make her happy and hold her close whenever the opportunity was available.  It wasn't available often, but he grabbed it with both hands when it was. 

And she cared about him, but not because of his appearance.  She seemed to be attracted to other parts of him, which was reassuring and made him think that perhaps they had a chance to break free of this curse at her lovely hands. 

He rolled his eyes at Donna and brushed past her, but the woman was still grinning, happy that he was happy.  

John carried Rose up the stairs and kicked her bedroom door open before walking towards the bed.  He laid her down on the bed before tugging her covers up to her chest.  He smoothed back a piece of her hair and leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead.  "Goodnight, my sweet Rose," he whispered softly, the very thought of the possessiveness belonging to her and her alone for as long as both of them lived.  He was getting ahead of himself, he knew he was, but she drew him in in a way that he never could've imagined.  He wanted to stay with her, but he knew the limits of what was appropriate and knew that he should not stay.  So he left her room, turning off the oil lamp, and closing the door behind himself. he heard a gentle sigh come from her before he closed the door. 

He went to the West Wing then, not sure what else to do with himself now that she was asleep.  The rose was the first thing he needed to look at.  Well, the only thing, then.  That's what Rose was doing to him though, distracting him, making him irrational. It frightened him.  he'd never been so distracted, and he didn't know quite how to address it.  

The rose was fading. He would have to hurry if he needed to keep Rose.  There was not much left that he could do, save for telling her that he loved her and wanted her to stay with him. And even then, she would have to accept his invitation, want to be with him, love him.  

And she didn't love him.  She couldn't.  No one could, even if he had changed, even if she had changed him.  Perhaps Donna's dinner would help.  She had curled against him tonight, trusting him enough to fall asleep with her body pressed up to his, her head on his shoulder.  She trusted him.  That was enough to make his heart swell in his chest.  He was happy.  For the first time since he'd been cursed, he was happy.  He wanted to be with Rose, to hold her hand and keep her close.  He felt something so strong for her that he was unable to identify it as love.  He almost thought that it had to be stronger.  She was perfect. 

Soon it would be Christmas. Perhaps he could tell her then.


	8. Chapter 8

The next night was Donna's fantastic dinner, and Rose had a surprise laid out for her on her bed.  There was a positively magnificent gold dress that touched the light in the same way the light touched it.  She gasped softly and Sarah Jane came up behind her. 

"The lord of the house has planned something special for you.  It's two days to Christmas."

She nodded, reaching out to touch the dress without even looking at Sarah Jane.  "Yes, I suppose it is."

"Now, let me help you into that dress!  You've got a very nice night ahead of you, my friend."

Rose looked over her shoulder at Sarah Jane and smiled broadly.  "Okay."

Rose had never worn a dress more beautiful.  She had to wear a hoop skirt under it, and it fell in golden waves when she spun.  The sleeves settled loosely over her upper arms instead of over her shoulders and there was a small flower in the middle of the sweetheart neckline.  It tightened along her waist and pleated and flared into a ballgown.  Sarah Jane made her sit at the vanity as she put up her hair in a half updo and let the rest cascade over her shoulders.  

"I have a necklace you can wear," Sarah Jane said, pulling out a necklace with a bronze chain with a pink pendant on the end of it.  Rose touched it gently as Sarah Jane settled it around her neck.  She sighed gently and smiled. 

"It's beautiful," she said, "Why is he doing this?" she asked, turning around in her seat to look up at Sarah Jane.

Sarah Jane shook her head and stepped back so that Rose could step up. "He wants it to be a surprise.  Come on, now."

She escorted Rose down the stairs to the dining hall, where John met them.  He was wearing what had become a standard blue waistcoat, a white shirt underneath and black trousers covering the rest of him.  He smiled warmly when she came into view and held his hand out for her.  She slid her hand into his and he pulled her knuckles to his lips, brushing a gentle kiss across them.  She felt her breath hitch as he gazed up at her through his lashes.  She smiled softly at him and allowed him to lead her to the table.  Sarah Jane and Donna grinned madly at each other and Jack pumped his fist in the air with his excitement.  

John pulled out her chair for her and moved to the other end of the table.  He waved Wilf over to pour them wine.  Rose smiled up at him in thanks but didn't say a word, mostly because she was afraid of breaking the moment. John was watching her and after the food was served, he waved the servants away.

The candles in the room flickered, and Rose watched the light touch John's face.  His beauty was in his eyes now. They weren't cold, like they used to be, or how he had closed them off.  Rose cocked her head at him.  "You've changed," she said softly, and it was a wonder, really, that her voice carried all the way over to him.

"I have," he said, his voice stronger than hers.  

The mood was heavy with tension, but it wasn't the sort of tension that was unpleasant. It made Rose's heart beat faster and she just wanted to spend as much time with him as she could.  They started chatting, and telling stories, and learning more about each other as their dinner progressed, and soon they were laughing and talking with the tension crackling beneath it.  

"I find that Donna puts together the most excellent dinners," John said, lifting his goblet in a mock salute to an imaginary Donna.  

"She does," Rose agreed, "Sarah Jane said you had something special planned for me.

"And I do," he said, but the sentence didn't sound complete, like he was going to add something on the end and thought better of it at the last minute.  She craved those words, whatever they were.  

"Well, I can't wait to see it. This dress would've been surprise enough."  She said graciously.

"You look beautiful," he said, his voice gentle. 

She blushed and looked down at her plate, but felt his eyes on her still.  He was looking at her nearly hungrily, and she felt heat spread down to her chest. 

When they'd finished with their dessert, which was a fluffy chocolate mousse, which was another thing that she'd never experienced before, and she wondered how he could live like this all the time, eating rich foods and living in lavish extravagance, John got to his feet. He held his hand out for her, his eyes open and vulnerable.

"Come with me," he said softly.  There was no demand behind it, and she could've easily said no, but she didn't want to.  She got to her feet and adjusted her skirts before holding her hand out for him.  He took her hand and threaded her arm through his before leading her up the stairs.  She was puzzled by this, mostly because the gardens and the library were on the bottom level of the castle.  She watched his face but he suddenly seemed nervous, as though something was about to happen and he knew exactly what it was, but was dreading it all the same.  

"Where are we going?" She asked, surprised by his gently nature and tenderness.  He'd been kinder to her, yes, but this was something new.  This was something that a man did when he was trying to woo a woman.  She wondered when she had stopped being a prisoner and started being his guest.  

"Here," he said, opening the door to a massive ballroom.  She breathed out a sigh as he led her into the room. She smiled and looked down at the marble floors and up at the crystal chandeliers.  It was beautiful, really, and she was amazed.  

The faint strains of music started to flow in through the room and she turned to look at him, surprise on her face. 

"Will you dance with me?" He asked. 

"I don't know how," she replied, looking up into his eyes. 

"It... Is one thing, I recall," he admitted.  "You taught me the magic of the written word, let me teach you this."

She stepped closer to him and held out her hand. He took it in his and wrapped his other arm around her waist as hers landed on his shoulder.  He pulled her closer to himself, the ballgown crushing against his legs, and swept her into a dance. 

There was fumbling and giggling, and he smiled down at her when they both stumbled.  She concentrated, though, and caught on, soon moving as gracefully as any princess that he could imagine.  They swept their way through several dances as though they had been built to dance together, built for her hand to be placed in his.   

After what felt like hours and no time at all, she felt herself breathing hard, unable to look away from his eyes. 

"Rose," he said softly, leaning forward but stopping himself. 

"Yes?"

They were still dancing, just barely, more like swaying back and forth to the classical music pouring in.  His nose nudged hers and her eyes fluttered shut, clenching her hand in the back of his jacket. 

He wanted to tell her that he loved her, but he had to wait just moments longer.  Just a bit, he told himself, then he could do it.  "Rose, please," he whispered.

She seemed to catch onto what she wanted, and she must've wanted the same thing, because she leaned forward, touching her lips to his gently.  She pulled back, seemingly out of fear, but he held her closer and a helpless whimper escaped him. 

She trailed her fingers along his cheek and kissed him again, this time with more conviction, less fear behind it.  He kissed her back, his heart thundering in his chest and blood rushing in his ears with the contact.  He brought his hand more firmly around her and she removed her hand from his to wrap both arms around his neck. He hauled her up against him by her waist, both arms coasting along her back. 

Of course, she'd never kissed a man, and even if she had, she was certain that it would never been like this.  She thought of Jimmy, and how he would've pushed her and pushed her until she gave in because there was nothing left, but now there was John.  Who had given her the choice to change what was between them, and she had taken it in both hands.

His hands were shaking with nervousness and she found that it made her heart ache with how innocent and loving he could be.  She wanted to make him feel safe, though she couldn't quite put her finger on why that was.  And she couldn't make it make sense in her head, but she felt that he needed protected more than she did. 

She pulled back from the kiss, breathing hard for air, and he kissed along her jawline and down her neck before pressing his nose to the crook of her shoulder and hugging her tightly to him.  She giggled and stroked her hand through his hair.  

It was an unwelcome thought, when the thought of what her mother would think came into her mind.  She let her smile fall.  She'd never see her again.  Her mother was gone.  

"What's wrong?" He asked, pulling away.  "Did I do something wrong?"

"No," She shook her head, cupping his cheeks.  "I just... I kind of miss my mum."

He seemed conflicted, but he nodded.  "There's a way you can see her, if you like."

"Okay," Rose said, and he led her from the room to the forbidden West Wing, holding Rose's hand in his.  He was gripping her tightly, as though he would soon be forced to let her go.  She drew his hand to her lips and kissed the back of it, earning a shy little smile from him that made her heart swell.  

They entered the room where he kept his fading rose.  It had gotten worse since she had seen it before, but John didn't seen to want to address it at all.  He picked up a golden mirror from the table next to the rose and handed it to her.  

"It's magic.  Just think of what you want to see and it will show you," he said softly, afraid of what she might see.

Rose squeezed his hand before taking the mirror from him and squeezed her eyes shut, thinking of her mother.  She looked at the mirror and gasped.  Her mother was in the mirror, stumbling through the thick and deep snow, her cloak drawn around her shoulders.  She was shivering violently, and Rose glanced up at John. 

"She's in trouble," she said, her voice full of fear.

John looked over her shoulder and saw her mother struggling in the snow.  He closed his eyes, his heart sinking.  He knew what he needed to do, and he hated it.  The universe hated him, he was sure of it.  He had just got her, and now he had to give her up.  He looked over at the rose, fading more and more with each passing day. He had a choice to make, and he knew it would break him.

He blinked at her slowly and tried to force himself to say the words that he knew had to fight their way out of his throat. He laid a hand on her shoulder, and she turned to him, tears glistening in her eyes.  

"Go find her," he said softly, his voice quiet so that he didn't let loose tears of his own, tears of weakness, tears that belonged to her.  

She looked shocked at the very notion.  After all, he'd said that she was to live in the castle with him for the rest of her life.  She clutched the mirror, her knuckles turning white.  "But-"

"Go," he cut her off, knowing that if she said anything to try and push him, he would beg her to stay and tell her he loved her.  But he couldn't.  She needed to find her mother, or she would resent him for the rest of their lives.  

"John, I-"

"It's okay," he said, and pushed the mirror so she was holding it close to her chest.  "Think of me and it will show me to you."  He kissed her forehead, burning the feeling of the touch into his mind.  

She reached up and cupped his cheek, running her thumb over the swell of it.  "Thank you," She whispered, and her hand broke from his skin and she ran from the room, her gold dress flowing behind her like an ocean. 

She changed into the heaviest clothes in the wardrobe, took a  lantern, and tore from the castle. 

"My Lord!" Jack shouted, "She is leaving!"  His voice was panicked and drew the other servants, who began chatting loudly.

John came down the stairs, his hands shoved in his pockets and his brows furrowed, not in anger, as they had typically been, but in sorrow.  When he reached the bottom of the stairs, the servants fell silent.

"I know," he whispered, "I had to let her go."


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter! As always, thank you for the love on this story, it's amazing and I am flattered and happy to give you what I can! The next AU Will be up soon. I'm not quite sure what I'll be doing, but I hope to find out soon :) If you have any ideas, let me know! I love dedicating stories.  
> xXxX

Rose stumbled through the woods, but was surprised to find the snow was melting due to a rain that had started.  The sun was just about to set, the top of it peaking out over the horizon.  She ran towards the town, her mind on her mother. 

Had Rose been thinking more logically, she would've thought about John and his reactions, but they said blood was thicker than the water, and the weather was making it even thicker.  Rose ran, and didn't stop, her breath wheezing through her lungs as she made her way back to the village.  

To her surprise, when she reached there, the people weren't inside hiding from the weather.  They were rioting in the middle of the square, pumping fists of torches with fire already lit in them.  Rose ran towards them, nearly falling in her haste. 

"What's going on!?" She shouted over the din.

Jimmy pushed forward through the crowd, holding a torch in his hand.  "Oh, my dear Rose, you've returned!" He crowed.  "How did you escape the beast?"

Rose scowled at him.  "He is no beast!  What is going on here?"

"Your mother is bloody insane!  She says there's a castle in the forest and that there's a man there that had her imprisoned, and then took you.  A castle in the bloody forest, not likely!" Jimmy laughed and Adam cackled next to him.  "But there is a way you can spare your mother from the asylum."

Rose squared her shoulders and stared Jimmy down.  "What?"

He grabbed her around the waist, a violent and less pleasing version of the way John had held her.  "Marry me," he growled, too close to her mouth, too close, too close.  

Rose shoved at his chest and he laughed, only loosening his grip, not letting her go.  She glared at him, her eyes burning.  "Where is my mother?"

"Look now, your precious mother!" The villagers, as Jimmy spoke, shoved Jackie Tyler to the ground before her daughter.  She looked up at Rose, and her mouth opened. 

"Oh!  Rose, he released you!" 

Rose nodded and looked up at Jimmy.  "You'll let her go."

"Marry me!"

"No!" She shouted, and pulled forth the mirror.  "She's not crazy, he exists, look!" She thought hard about John and showed the mirror to Jimmy.  His face went lax as he seemed to realize she was not kidding around. He looked up at Rose.

"He's an _animal,_ look at him!" Jimmy shouted.  "You're just as crazy as your mother!"

Rose, confused, looked at the mirror.  John was flaming with anger, and Donna and Jack were trying to talk to him, but he was having none of it.  Sarah Jane stood to the side, biting her closed fist.  She nearly sobbed at how hurt he looked.  She had done that to him.  And he had let her.  She looked up and saw Jimmy and Adam staring at her. 

"Did he beat you, Rose, did he?" Adam asked, approaching her, a malicious glint in his eyes.  

"No, he's kind!" Rose shouted.  "He's so gentle, and cares about me.  He's-"

"He's a beast!" Jimmy shouted, and the crowd, who had clamored to see the mirror, seemed to understand, the whispers that rippled through making Rose shake her head and clutch the mirror to her chest.

"No, he's not!" She cried.  "He's not!  Stop it!"

"He's a beast!" the crowd chanted, and continued to shout it, over and over.  They pumped their torches in the air and fire lit in their eyes.  Jimmy turned to look at Rose as they continued to shout, and Rose realized how much he towered over her.  She swallowed, hard, and tried her best not to shrink back.

"You're just as crazy as her," Jimmy said lowly, "Lock her up, lock them both up!" He shouted to the villagers.  "This maniac beast took Rose and her mother, what's to say that he won't hurt the rest of us?  Our capture is inevitable, don't you see?!  We must kill the beast!"

"Kill the beast, kill the beast!" The villagers chanted, and Rose cried out in upset, tears pricking the back of her eyes.  

"Don't kill him, he's a good man!" She shouted, but Adam and one of his other men grabbed her. Two other men grabbed her mother and they dragged them into their house.  Adam gave Rose a mighty shove so she fell down the stairs, tumbling into the cellar with a cry of pain as she landed on her shoulder. Her mother was escorted down, but in an incredibly rough fashion, and the cellar door was locked before they could try to get back up to the door to let themselves out.  Rose pounded on the door, shouting and screaming, and collapsed against the door.

"They can't kill him," she said, wiping her tears.  "I won't let them kill him."

"Where did this come from?" Jackie asked cautiously, seemingly confused as to what was going on with her daughter.  

She tilted her head against the door.  "I need...  I have to go to him, mum.  He let me go to save you.  You have to help me break down the door."

She descended the stairs to pick up the mirror, which was miraculously not broken. She stroked her fingers over it.  "Show me John," she whispered softly, and he was no longer angry.  He stood in the West Wing, collapsed against the table that had the wilting rose on it.  There were only three petals left, and his arm was up on the table, as though he simply wanted to be close to it.  She bit her lip. He looked so sad.  She needed to save him.  

A wave of affection rushed over her and, as though it was triggered by that, the handle on the mirror opened, depositing a little silver tube into her hand.  A blue light lit on the end of it and somehow she knew exactly what she needed to do.  

She ran up the stairs and pressed the blue tip of the device onto the doorknob and the lock broke.  Rose cried out in triumph.  "It has to be magic!" She shouted at her mother, "This!  This is magic, oh, he's perfect!"  She pulled the mirror up and clutched it close to herself.  "I'm coming, my dear John," she whispered.  

Jackie tried to follow, but Rose shook her head.   "No, mum, you've got to stay here.  There's no telling what Jimmy and Adam will do, and I don't want to have to deal with that," she said insistently.

"Rose, I can't-" Her mother started to protest, but Rose cut her off.

"Please, mum!  I'll come back!"

"Who says you will?  Who says you won't stay with that stupid, evil man?"

Rose gave her mother a watery smile.  "He's not evil.  I care about him, mum.  I need to help him.  Their going to hurt him."  

And without waiting for another answer, she took off after the direction where the villagers had gone.  Jackie fell back to the floor and glanced up at the ceiling before dipping her head and beginning to pray. 

****

John did not stray from the spot by the table, but he heard Jack cry out from downstairs.  He closed his eyes.  It would be better to die here, now, without Rose, than to live with knowing that she was gone.  He got to his feet and stared at the rose.  Another petal fell, leaving him with only two left. He grimaced.  She was gone.

"My name is Jimmy Stone and I've come to avenge the pain you've inflicted upon Rose Tyler!" And with that, the door was kicked in, a man brandishing a sword and a torch, still flaming slightly, despite the rain.  John tilted his head back. 

"Rose left," he said, "She left because she could."

"Her mother said otherwise," Jimmy said, "I'm going to marry that girl, you absolute animal!" he snarled. 

"I don't think I'm the animal, here," John said. He had lost the will to fight, for Rose was his reason to fight.  

"Well, while your servants are fighting off the villagers, this is what you deserve!" Jimmy lunged forward and pushed John through the window of the room onto the balcony, the rain crushing them.  The fall nearly sent him tumbling onto the roof with force, and John cried out in surprise at the weather and the force of his back on the ground.  The railing cracked when his head hit it.  He groaned in pain and tried to sit up.  He fought Jimmy, but not with much purpose.  He felt like there was nothing left for him, not without Rose, not without her love.  

Jimmy seemed to be able to sense that he could get the upper hand, and John fought to push Jimmy over, trying not to die but also not caring much if he did.

 "John!" her voice lilted up from the palace grounds, and John and Jimmy were both distracted by her. 

"How did she-" Jimmy started, but John was invigorated by her presence, how she was looking up him anxiously with her hand clenched in her cloak.  He needed to win this, for her, to fight for _her._ She started to rush towards the door, supposedly to come up to him.  His heart soared at the very thought.

He pushed Jimmy, rolling over so that he was over the other man, and punched him squarely in the jaw.  John's strength returned to him and he pulled Jimmy to his feet before pressing him against the cracked part of the balcony.

"I should kill you," he hissed through his teeth.  "I should kill you for torturing Rose, for forcing yourself on her, because I can tell that's exactly what you do.  I should kill you for attacking my home, my servants, my _friends._ You deserve to die!"

Jimmy sensed he was beaten.  John's fists were like iron, buried in Jimmy's shirt and ready to shove him over the railing.  He scrabbled at his hands, but John was to be unmoved.  

"Let me go," Jimmy wheezed. "Please don't kill me."

"I should kill you," John repeated.  He heard footsteps behind him and knew Rose was there, watching, observing his every move. She wasn't saying a word, letting him make the decision, and he knew which one he had to make.  

"Please..." Jimmy begged, and John was about to release him when the balcony cracked and sent both of them tumbling onto the roof.  John landed on top of Jimmy, his knee in his stomach, and Jimmy cried out in pain.

"Never come back," John demanded, standing up.  Lightening cracked and thunder boomed, making him look as menacing as many wanted to believe that he was.  "Leave here, and never return."

"Oh, John!" Rose rushed to the edge of the balcony, where it had broken, and reached her hand down for him.  He took her hand and she started to help him up.  He was just about to get his footing when Jimmy's sword plunged into his back.  Rose screamed and John grit his teeth against the pain.  Jimmy pulled his sword out but slipped on the rain slicked roof and tumbled into a chasm behind the castle.  Rose was not focused on that, though, only on helping John.  He collapsed onto his stomach, grimacing painfully, and Rose's tears mixed with the rain as she tried to be as close to him as possible.

"John, John, it's going to be alright.  I promise, please, John," she touched his shoulder, and his eyes looked up to hers. He smiled softly and reached his hand out to touch her face.

"Rose," he whispered.  "I got to see you," he said softly.  

She furrowed her brows in confusion, falling closer to the ground so that she could be closer to him.  She ran her hand into his hair, forcing him to look at her.  "You're not going to leave me, John, do you hear me? I'm not going to let you leave!"

He ran his thumb along her cheek before his hand dropped to hers on the ground.  "I got to see you one last time, my Rose," he said softly, and breathed out slowly.  

Rose wept, for there was nothing else to do.  She pressed her forehead to his and held him close.  "I love you," she said softly, mourning in the fact that she didn't tell him just moments before.

As the words left her lips, the last petal fell and evaporated into gold.  That, she did not see, but the gold that began streaming from John's mouth and hands alerted her to something amiss.  She sat back and watched as the gold mist-like substance climbed through the rain to the wound on his back.  It slid into his sword wound and closed itself up, much to Rose's astonishment.  

He alerted then, his eyes opening once more, and sat up, looking surprised.  The hard lines of his face had evened out to laugh lines and happy features.  He looked much the same, but at the exact same time, completely different.  He smiled at her as the castle seemed to move.  Rose gasped as she watched the scenery around them change.  She could barely focus on that though, instead, threw herself into his arms.  He held her close, his face pressed into the crook of her neck, as the castle replaced itself back to where it had originally been before the witch had settled the curse upon John.  The villagers were left in the woods, confused, as there was no longer anything to fight. 

Rose pulled back from his embrace and cupped his cheeks, leaning in to kiss him.   He squeezed her close, reveling in her kiss.  They kissed for what felt like hours and no time at all until they pulled back for breath.

"I love you," she whispered with conviction.  

"I love you," he replied, smiling, glad he was finally able to say it, that the words finally found their way past his teeth.

They kissed again and though it still rained, neither of them could be bothered to notice. 

****

John explained the curse to Rose in more detail.  How he had been a fool to turn an old woman from the castle doorstep, and because of that, had been cursed to have nothing but his beauty, which was why he couldn't read. He'd been miserable since his parents died, and the curse was supposed to bring him back out. When all the petals on the rose fell off, that was when his time would be up, and he would be forced to live in the castle in the woods forever.

She asked him why it moved.  It went back to its original location, which was another form of intense magic that John said he could not even begin to understand.  Rose was willing to accept it, as was her mother, when they introduced her to the neighboring kingdom of Gallifrey, where Prince John now ruled. 

Their wedding was extravagant, and also a celebration of the return of the prince.  John looked down at Rose, in her white gown and delicate features, and found that he couldn't stop smiling.  

She reached up to cup his cheek as they danced with the rest of the guests, including Donna, Sarah Jane, and Jack, and smiled softly.  "You are no beast," she whispered, willing him to believe the words. 

He leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to her lips. "No," he mused, "Not anymore. Not when I'm with you."

I am sure you know the rest.  And Jack will tell you himself, as he tells everyone he tells the story to, for of course, he still tells it. He will rock back on his heels and smile at you (and it's quite a bewitching smile, so be wary of that) and he will tell you, with the utmost certainty:

"Those two idiots?  Well, they lived happily ever after."


End file.
